Pizza Hut: A Slice of Heaven
by Minute-Maid511
Summary: Pizza Hut: Serving thousands of pizzas to the world daily and rejecting hundreds of unworthy applicants by the hour.
1. So You Were Zero, Huh?

"Code Geass"

Pizza Hut: A Slice of Heaven

Synopsis:

Pizza Hut: Serving thousands of pizzas to the world daily and rejecting hundreds of unworthy applicants by the hour.

* * *

Chapter One: So You Were Zero, Huh?

Name: Lelouch Lamperouge (a.k.a. Lelouch vi Britannia)

Objective: To rule the world obtain part-time employment at a Pizza Hut.

Skill Sets: Terrorism, massacre, coming back from the dead, getting others to do stuff for me.

Past Employment: Zero, Demon Emperor.

ooo

It had been a long day for Lydic Verell. A _very_ long day. Long days meant he wasn't in the mood for anything—especially sifting through dozens and dozens of resumes piled neatly on his desk by his secretary. He glared at the large stack of resumes angrily—as if they would spontaneously combust were he to hate them enough.

Not that he didn't hate them enough as it was.

Upon opening the top drawer for his flask of pick-me-up he spotted the red, plastic lighter and eyed it thoughtfully before sighing and closing his drawer back.

While he was willing to do a lot of illegal activities, he was only willing to do the ones he could get away with.

The first three resumes were in pink and immediately thrown out. The next two were written by hand and also thrown out. The next seven or eight had stickers on them and looked really pretty, but were also thrown out.

And this was how the remainder of his day went until there was a knock on the door and his secretary popped her head in. "Mr Verell, there's an applicant here to see you. He says he has an appointment with you about a job interview."

Lydic sighed and followed it up with a groan. "Send him in, Lydia."

She frowned. _"Nakuru," _she corrected pointedly. And then she was gone.

In her place stood the living definition of an albino anorexic.

Lydic mentally frowned but it didn't match the overly-enthusiastic, plastic smile he had to wear. He remembered this kid; his resume was _interesting._ In hindsight, the kid was probably a liar and wouldn't be hired, but he was polite enough to be someone any girl would want to bring home to daddy and that was enough.

After a few pleasantries, Lydic asked him to take a seat in front of his desk.

Opening his file folder, Lydic pulled out his resume. "So…" he glanced down at the paper, "Lelouch, it says you were _Zero?_ Didn't Zero commit _treason?_"

The young man shifted and cleared his throat. "That depends on who you ask. I would hardly call it _treason_ per se_._"

"You aimed to and succeeded in killing members of the Britannian Royal Family. That's pretty much the working definition of treason."

Lelouch coughed uncomfortably. "Only in some countries."

"Well, it _was_ murder. Last I checked murder was still illegal almost everywhere in the world. Or at least frowned upon. Especially in Britannia. Especially when that murder involves the Royal Family."

Lelouch winced at the simple breakdown of it all. "I wouldn't even call it _murder_. I was just making the necessary sacrifices out of them for a better world."

Lydic snorted.

He'd make a terrific politician.

"I see. It also says here that you were…" Lydic looked down at the resume again, "…the _Demon Emperor?"_

Lelouch nodded. "Yes. For a short while. I—ah—retired and let my little sister take over."

For a brief moment Lydic recalled the day the so-called Demon Emperor was slain—not killed, murdered or anything else, but quite literally _slain._

Sword and all.

In front of many, many cameras and eye-witness accounts.

Lydic was not one of those eye-witness accounts on the account of him being in too much pain from the hangover he received as a reward for drinking a country's worth of booze the night prior.

"If I recall correctly, the Demon Emperor was _slain_ just a while back. It was quite the fanfare."

Lelouch cleared his throat slightly. "Well, if you look under my—"

"Oh, yes, yes. It says here one of your skills was _coming back from the dead._ I'm not sure I believe you."

"It's kind of a difficult skill to explain. I'm not sure if you'd understand it or not. It involves witches and, uh, magical powers."

Lydic's eyebrow rose. "Witches?"

"Yeah. The immortal ones. That eat lots of pizza. Specifically from here."

"So an immortal, pizza-eating witch gave you the _magical power_ to come back from the _dead?"_

Lelouch shook his head. "No, no. CC just gave me a magical power. Coming back was just a, er, perk benefit. Unintended really." A pause. "_Really_ unintended."

This kid was off his rocker.

Lydic wanted to pull out the whiskey.

"Alright. Fair enough. So explain to me how _terrorism_ and _massacre_ are valuable skills?"

"Well. What if Dominoes across the street decides to play dirty? I could use my special set of skills and make sure they never bother us again."

Another eyebrow rose. "By terrorizing and massacring them?"

"Er, to be awfully _specific_, yeah."

"Hmm."

Lydic considered it.

It would be good to point out that one Lydic Verell was the living definition of amorality and so this idea was more than just a little appealing to him.

He _really_ hated those jerks at Dominoes after all.

"What about this last skill of yours? _'Getting others to do stuff for me'?_"

Lelouch seemed to ponder that one for a bit. "Well. I could get away with my last two skills by not really getting my hands dirty—and by my hands I mean other than yours or mine. I don't actually know if that one still works."

Lydic blinked, and then frowned. "Why not?"

"CC wasn't terribly specific about what happened to it if you—er—technically died. She's never had first-hand experience."

"I see. Is this that 'magic power' you were mentioning earlier?"

"Uh… kind of."

"Getting other people to do stuff for you… Doesn't that mean you're just incredibly bossy? Zero _did _lead a rebellion after all."

"It's a complicated skill," Lelouch concluded, looking like he wasn't about to go into the specifics.

"I see. Well, Mr Lamper—er—vi Bri—Ah… Oh Hell; listen kid, I'll call you in a week to see if you're workforce material."

Lelouch smiled and Lydic shook hands with him. "Thank you very much, Mr Verell. I hope to be hearing from you again soon."

The very next day Lydic Verell took that lighter out of his top desk drawer and went out back and had himself a little bonfire.

* * *

Comments:

Heaven have mercy. I just had to put this one out there, I just had to.

This is for all the disaffected, unemployed, college students (and maybe equally disaffected, unemployed, high school students) out and about right now looking for work. This doesn't include me. Just remember there are always worse applicants than you.

And better ones than you.

Please R&R.

- Minute Maid

Beverage of Queens.


	2. So You're Immortal, Huh?

Pre-Comment: After applications are all done, I'll tell you all why some jobs _must_ suck. I know mine does.

* * *

Chapter Two: So You're Immortal, Huh?

Name: CC

Objective: To obtain a managerial position at Pizza Hut so I can slowly start taking it over and reshaping it into my ideal image and monopolizing pizza venues everywhere.

Skill Set: Eating pizza, immortality, identifying over thirty-one different types of cheeses, bestowing magical powers.

Past Employment: Witch, Court Witch, Dead Witch, Immortal Witch, Still Alive Witch

ooo

The week had been rough for one Lydic Verell.

Oven Number Three had blown a fuse and was Out of Order for the rest of the week until the electrician from Head Office came by. The Pizza Hut location he managed only had three working ovens. One was used as a cupboard of sorts and thus didn't count.

At the end of the day, he sat back in his leather chair he invested in himself with his good friend Mr Pick-Me-Up, and once again found himself glaring at the newest batch of resumes on his desk.

A chocolate mint was planted tidily on top as a mild incentive from his secretary to get through them.

With a sigh, he picked up the first one.

It was lime green.

Not lime green writing.

It was lime green.

With little hearts written all over it including a cute little doodle of Pizza Hut in the corner. The cute little doodle of Pizza Hut in the corner was also coloured—although the red hat looked like a mottled shade of blood mixed with dirt on the lime green paper.

Lydic tossed it.

After throwing out about thirteen resumes so far, the door to his office burst open in a whirl of green and white.

His secretary was calling after the intruder, pausing at the doorway, looking at the interloper desperately for her to show some decency and patience.

"Miss, I'm sure he's—"

The woman made a hissing, shushing noise at her before walking right up to his desk and slamming her resume down on top of the pile he was neatly preparing for incineration with good old Mr Lighter-Fluid.

Er.

He meant 'going through neatly and carefully considering the potential list of employees thoughtfully.'

Lydic was speechless.

"Miss, you can't just—"

"Lydia, I think I'll take this one."

His secretary sighed. _"Nakuru_. And if you're sure about—"

"Yes, yes, I'm _absolutely_ sure about this, Ly—Nakuru."

Nakuru rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her.

Lydic motioned for the girl to take a seat.

And he would be damned if he didn't point out _one_ major detail about her. Well, _two_ actually, but that was if you were looking closely. Which he was. And they were both _huge_ details.

This girl was _smoking_ _hot._

He would give her _that much._

If you could ignore the creepy, pierces-your-soul stare, complete with eerie golden eyes, she was currently fixing him with she could easily pass for average. She was average and _hot._ And if protocol didn't demand an interview of _all_ applicants, he'd probably hire her on the spot after taking a look at that impressive rack she supported.

This girl was hotter than his secretary (who was somehow related to him and thus off-limits), and that was saying something because Ly—Nakuru was _hot._

Even so, for Lydic Verell, there existed no greater evil than having to cut through job applications—and their applicants.

One by one.

Heartlessly.

"So…" he swiftly glanced down for a name, "CC, you're looking for a managerial position? And the rest of your goals are pretty _steep_. Takes a while to get up there, you know."

CC shrugged nonchalantly. "I got time on my hands. What can I say?"

"Alright. Fair enough. If you're determined enough, I guess ambition is welcome here at Pizza Hut. This cheese identification skill of yours is pretty impressive."

She smiled. "I've had a lot of experience in my life."

"Alright then. For the most part, your resume seems to be in order—"

And by that Lydic meant she was really hot and he hadn't bothered really reading it all before considering hiring her.

"—So what are your plans for the future?"

"Well," CC started, crossing her legs the other way, "For starters, I plan to monopolize the pizza-making industry." She made a determined fist with her hand and a rather determined, and somewhat scary, look crossed her face.

Lydic edged away from her just a tad bit.

"Cheese-kun will be recognized as King of the World and I will mascot beside him as the emblem to an empire where 310-1010 will be dialled _daily_, otherwise _harsh_ consequences will be met. Customers showing a lack of respect for the Food of Kings will be _shot,_ and their corpses will be dumped in a desert somewhere for scavengers to feed off their blasphemous remains. Of course," she accentuated in a much less threatening tone, pausing for a moment, "This is all in the far-off future."

She smiled prettily.

Okay, she was hot, he would give her that, but it didn't make up for the fact that she was in-_freaking_-sane. Not the normal kind of insane either—the kind of insane that people were sent to padded rooms for. A lunatic straight from Alcatraz.

"Uh… okay. That's… those are very… _unique_ goals you've got there, CC."

CC shrugged. "What can I say?"

Lydic continued to peruse the rest of her resume, hoping that _world domination_ or _kicking puppies_ wasn't somewhere in there too.

"So… CC… it says here that you're a _Witch?"_

For a brief moment, Lydic had time to wonder where he had heard that word from again.

CC nodded. "Yes, that's right. I give people a, um, magical power in exchange for their right to socialize with the rest of the world. Little by little. Over time. It's a gradual thing."

Lydic blinked. "So… you… isolate people after giving them this magical power and letting them run loose with it for a while?"

Huffing, CC folded her arms under her bust.

And _damn_ if Lydic had a hard time focusing on her face.

_"I_ don't isolate people. The magical power does. _I _just give it to them."

"Oookay. Let's discuss the rest of your resume."

Maybe it was time to properly read it now.

Hot or not.

This woman was _clearly_ nuts—or at least high off something.

"What's with this immortality thing? How is that a skill _exactly?_"

"Well. How about if I reword it this way: I can shoot myself in the head with live ammunition and survive. Surviving is a skill. A lot of hunters need survival instincts."

Lydic deadpanned. "Do you… _hunt…_ or something?"

"No. I'm just pointing it out. Don't you think that crocodile guy would've lived longer if he learned some survival skills against hippos?"

Lydic felt a migraine coming on. He gripped the handle of his top-drawer containing his good friend Scotch while he was pining for the empty bottle of his _best_ friend Whiskey.

"Right. Hippos and survival tactics aside… why do you think you're right for this job…?"

She huffed. "I saved entire _cards_ worth of stamps to get Cheese-kun. Why _wouldn't_ I be right for this job?"

Because Lydic Verell had a set of his own survival skills, he decided not to answer that. At least not truthfully.

Or vocally.

"Right. Well, CC, it was an _interesting_ pleasure meeting you. I'll call you back and let you know if I can work something out for you."

Smiling triumphantly, she rose from her seat. "You better. After you're done torching the applications of all of _those_ shmucks, you'll see just how superior I am to them when it comes to pizza."

And with that, she whisked out of his office in another blur of green, white, and blunt arrogance.

Now that Lydic thought about it, her outfit _did_ sort of resemble a straight-jacket.

* * *

Comments:

I made some references of some popular video-games here. If you caught them I'll give you cake. :)

Once again, this is for all those jobless college (and maybe jobless high-school) students out looking for work. A lot of places aren't hiring right now and I feel your pain. Or at least I would if I wasn't employed and had to turn away the dozens of applicants that come at my door every day between one and five.

On a different note, I turn another year older today. Any guesses of my age will be harshly ignored to the fullest extent of my apathy. I get cake today and that's all you need to know.

Please R&R.

- Minute Maid

Beverage of Queens.

P.S. I'm open to taking suggestions for who you want to see up on the chopping block next. Go vote in the poll on my profile page. Whoever has the highest vote will be next.


	3. So You Want to Work For Wait, What?

Pre-Comment: You voted for it, I wrote it. On a different note, I say good-bye to my cowboy hat for another year to collect dust on top of my bookshelf until 2010. If that makes sense to you, you probably live somewhere near to me. If not, pay it no mind.

* * *

Chapter Three: So You Want to Work For—Wait, _What?_

Name: Jeremiah Gottwald

Objective: To obtain full-time employment by Minute Maid in quality management and pulp production.

Skill Sets: Armed combat, loyalty, being 30% cyborg, Geass Canceller, orange quality control, compatibility for both PC and Mac.

Past Employment: Knight to the Demon Emperor, orange plantation owner.

ooo

The only thought Lydic had in his mind was _Thank God._

After interviewing a bunch of other idiots who had dropped by his doorstep, Lydic had finally come across someone who looked like they were worth the effort, time, and patience. While he didn't want to be too picky about his employees at this point in time, there was one glaring issue he just couldn't put down.

"Jeremiah, it says here you're looking to apply to… _Minute Maid?"_

The man sitting across from him bristled slightly.

Oooh.

Must've struck a nerve or something.

"Yes," he answered proudly. "That's correct."

"So… why aren't you there? Instead of here. In my office. Wasting my time applying to _Pizza Hut?_ You _do_ know this is _Pizza Hut_ right?"

Gottwald coughed and any lesser man probably would've looked away from Lydic's hard-pressed stare. He cleared his throat politely.

"They rejected me."

Well.

Lydic really only had one thing to say about that.

(In his head, of course.)

Oh _BURRRN._

"I see," he returned airily. Lydic looked back down at the resume at hand and back up at the man sitting across from him.

A particularly sinister thought came to mind and he wasn't about to resist the urge to see _just_ how sinister it could be.

"Why not apply to Tropicana, then? They have better pulp, after all."

Gottwald visibly flinched but said nothing.

A red light somewhere on his face started to blink.

Lydic Verell wasn't _completely_ unaware of the first skill on Gottwald's resume.

Er.

Let's stop this train before it crashes somewhere nastily.

"At any rate that's alright because Pizza Hut isn't _too_ picky about those employed under its red-hatted roof."

Who were just rejected by Minute Maid, Lydic added—only in his head.

Gottwald gave him a polite smile. "I'm thankful to hear it."

The light stopped blinking.

Sigh of relief?

Lydic wasn't sure.

And with nothing better to do, he decided to peruse the guy's resume again. Lydic didn't know what to think about this one. He was nice. He was polite. He was well-behaved. He wasn't terribly psychotic (not that Lydic found that a problem anymore given the recent applicants at his door). And, above all, he seemed more than just able.

Jeremiah Gottwald was just a little overqualified to be a meagre employee of a giant conglomerate pizza corporate entity of the western world.

He was the ideal employee.

There was only one glaring problem.

A rather _very_ glaring problem.

"So… uh… can you tell me what that… orange _thing_—" He really didn't know what else to call it. "—on your face does?"

The man cleared his throat and smiled politely. "It's a 'Geass Canceller.' It cancels any Geass that might be on you."

Lydic frowned. "Are you… calling me a Nancy? I may be out of the social loop, but I'm pretty sure that falls in the rude spectrum of speech no matter how you spin it."

The man's eyes widened in horror and he raised both hands defensively. "No! No! Nothing of the sort! GEE-ASS. It cancels out any Geass that might be on you."

"A _what?"_

"A Geass. It's like… a… uh… a magic spell that gets put on you."

Uh oh.

A strong sense of déjà vu hit Lydic. Right there.

"A magic… spell…?"

"It's a rather long story I'd rather not get into right now if you're intending to be home by six today."

Lydic glanced at the clock.

3:42.

"I see. We'll move on, then. Ominous background notwithstanding, are you _really_ thirty percent robot?"

Gottwald nodded. "With full compatibility for both Windows and Mac. Although I prefer Windows over Mac."

"In… Interesting. I'm… I'm not sure what to say or think about that. So… you're skilled in armed combat, are you? Were you trained in the military? If so, then why did you leave?"

"Yes. I was. I left due to political reasons and the change of leadership. I'm sure you were aware of the day the so-called Demon Emperor—"

"—was _slain?"_

Yes, quite literally slain.

Sword and all.

This was covered.

"Yes, I remember—"

_Lies._

This was also covered.

"—that day well. It was quite the event. All over the news."

"Yes, well, I was in charge of protecting him that day."

Lydic blinked.

That story sounded vaguely familiar.

The name sounded vaguely familiar now.

Gottwald…

Gottwald…

Gott—

_ Whoa._

This was _Jeremiah Gottwald._

The guy in charge of protecting the late Empress Marianne vi Britannia too.

Hmm.

_Late_ Empress.

_Late_ Emperor. (Demon or not.)

Lydic began to see a pattern of 'fail' surrounding this guy—no matter how adept he was.

"Tell me, Mr Gottwald, were you in charge of protecting the late Empress Marianne vi Britannia the day she died too?"

A flinch.

Oooh.

Struck another nerve.

"Th-That's just coincidental."

The telltale red of embarrassment tinted his cheeks.

The guy probably didn't think how badly it would look on a resume to have failed _twice_ at the same task. You know what they say if at first you don't succeed… and Lydic wasn't against such an old piece of advice… but others considering his bodyguard qualities may want to reconsider their choice at this point.

"I see. Well, just one last thing I'd like to ask you about before we wrap up here…"

Lydic wasn't even sure if he really wanted to.

"Does a Geass Canceller come in Windows or Mac?"

It could've been the badly placed joke. (And bad joke in general.)

It could've been the slight undertone of insult.

It could've been the fact that Lydic was _smiling_ while he asked that question.

It could've been any number of things, really.

But, one way or another, Jeremiah Gottwald got up from his seat and proceeded to leave the office.

With slightly renewed fervour, Lydic Verell finally ate that chocolate mint incentive Nakuru had placed on top of the stack of neatly piled resumes. He then proceeded to scan the pile over for more resumes that could be profiles for the patients of a local psycho ward.

* * *

Comments:

The pulp thing is actually my personal issue with Minute Maid. Tropicana has better pulp. I'm not afraid to say it. If Minute Maid ever started to come out with Tropicana quality pulp I think they should call it Minute Maid Tropical.

I would buy it.

On another note, I think this is steadily going downhill. And, for the most part, I'm okay with that.

Please R&R.

- Minute Maid

Beverage of Queens (whose pulp is worse than Tropicana)

P.S. You vote it, I'll write it. Who's next?


	4. So You're Legally Dead, Huh?

Pre-Comment: Incompetence - When you earnestly believe you can compensate for a lack of skill by doubling your efforts, there's no end to what you can't do.

- Despair DOT com

* * *

Chapter Four: So You're Legally Dead, Huh?

"I can't _believe_ I left Viridisa for _this,"_ he griped and complained, taking another pull from a quickly emptying bottle of scotch.

Sure, it was _cold_ back home, and a lot of things were out of order, and he had to deal with _that_ guy, but it sure beat doing _this._ _Anything_ beat doing _this._

And then his phone rang.

Lydic looked at the nearest clock blearily.

The red glare of the numbers read—

3:07 AM.

Horrified, Lydic took to staring at his phone for the first few rings. And then, finally, he picked it up and gave a grudging—

"What psycho ward did _you_ escape from and how did you get this number?"

There was the muffled sound of something moving, more smothered sound, a bit of static, and finally—

"Hello? Mr Verell? Can you repeat what you just said? I didn't quite catch that. It's Suzaku—Suzaku Kururugi. Remember? From the interview? I just wanted to cle—"

Lydic hung up the phone.

Of course it would be him.

It just _had_ to be, didn't it?

ooo

Name: Suzaku Kururugi

Objective: World peace. And a part-time job for the summer.

Skill Sets: Knightmare piloting, killing hundreds of people and having memory blackouts about doing it, being legally dead, saving the world.

Past Employment: Military Officer, Knightmare Pilot, Student, Royal Knight, Knight of Zero, Zero.

ooo

"Stop slacking off! What am I going to tell Head Office tomorrow? 'Sorry, he can't make it to the meeting because he's leaving for Maui today?' You're such a—"

"Lydia, please just—"

"Don't _Lydia_ me! And for the last time, it's _not_ Lydia! It's _Nakuru!"_

Lydic winced and fell silent.

At this point in time it was just best to weather out the storm. There was no telling at this point whether it would go on a rampage and take out a few small cities at this point if he didn't. And while the latter portion of that statement was questionably true or even possible, Lydic didn't want to take the chances she didn't take out at least a few lives while trying.

"—one more thing, you just can't—"

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Lydic looked up at the door and Nakuru paused to turn around and stare at it. His secretary slowly turned back around and stared long and hard at him. Keeping a straight face, Lydic returned her glare innocently.

Moving towards the door, she opened it so quickly the mahogany blurred. She almost jumped back at the sight of the kid standing there, as if expecting otherwise.

"I… ah… have an appointment scheduled. I was told to just knock on the door…"

Nakuru blinked and turned to Lydic—who smiled helplessly at her. Sighing in defeat, she let the boy in and stepped around him, slamming the door on the way out.

"Sit down, boy, sit down. Have a seat," he offered kindly.

The boy sat down nervously and pulled out a sheet of crisp, white paper from his bag and slid it over to Lydic.

It was a resume.

Of course it was.

But, for once, Lydic wasn't going to complain. He would take the company of _anyone_ other than that raging demon that was the best secretary he ever had.

"I'm here about—"

The loud scream from someone (female) echoed throughout the restaurant. Followed by the hollow sound of a loud bang coming from relatively the same location.

Lydic merely smiled. "Please. Continue."

The boy cleared his throat. "Well, I'm here about the open position at your establishment."

"Oh really? Well, you know—" Lydic looked down at the resume to fish for a name, "—Suzaku, Pizza Hut is _always_ looking for new family members—because, at Pizza Hut, we like to think of everyone as family. So, in light of that, I'd like you to tell me a little bit about yourself."

It was a standard interview question.

A standard interview question he usually didn't include in his interviews simply because he _didn't care_ about useless information about other people and preferred not to make a show of caring otherwise.

But there were always exceptions.

"Well, I grew up with my dad at the Kururugi shrine. I had two friends growing up. One's sort of the Empress now and the other's… well… he's dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that. But you have friends in high places," Lydic remarked casually. "So why do you want to work here?"

"Well, I, ah, need some pocket change for the summer. You wouldn't believe it but the Empress is pretty strict about my salary."

Lydic raised an eyebrow. "You're already employed?"

Suzaku gave a sheepish nod.

Lydic looked down at the resume, "So you were Zero, huh?"

Why did that sound so familiar?

Suzaku pursed his lips. "Well… kind of. Not—Not really _Zero_ Zero. More like a… spin-off of the real thing. You know—without the mass destruction and loss of life."

There was a long silence.

"I see. You know, you seem like a nice kid, so I might just hire you. But rules are rules," he sighed, glancing back down at the resume to read it through, "and they require me to go over everything like—"

He paused.

"—how it says one of your skills is being _legally dead."_

An oh-crap-I-knew-I-shouldn't-have-put-that-there sort of look passed over the kid's face momentarily.

"Well… you see… it's because I am. And I've always heard it's bad to lie on resumes so…"

Lydic blinked. "It _is_ bad. Especially considering how you're not _actually dead_ because you're sitting right here. In front of me. Very much alive."

"I swear I'm not lying! I have a grave and everything!"

Cue awkward silence.

"That aside, about your other skills… they're a little…"

Suzaku tilted his head apprehensively.

"…questionable. Like this one: Knightmare piloting. How would that benefit Pizza Hut?"

The kid's face brightened substantially. "Well, what if Pizza Hut needed to make the world's largest pizza? I could pilot a Knightmare to get it done. I've done it before—although the last two attempts didn't really go so well…"

"Okay. I can accept that. And this other skill… saving the world… _Very_ admirable. So tell me, just _how_ did you save the world?"

"I, uh, well… I killed my best friend."

Lydic's eyebrow rose.

"He asked me to!"

It rose higher.

"I had no choice!"

It went higher still.

Alright. So the kid was nuts and probably a psychopathic killer. Maybe it was time to—

Nakuru appeared in the window of his door and glared at him.

Quite viciously.

—prolong this interview as much as possible.

"Alright. I can accept that. Pizza Hut can accept people who practice euthanasia."

Nakuru mumbled something to herself and turned and walked away.

Lydic sighed.

_Safe._

"But… what about this 'killing people and forgetting about it later' thing? While we can accept a lot of things and all sorts of people, we can't legally accept murderers."

This time, he flushed a true crimson. "That's… well… that's not really my fault. You see, a… uh… _magic spell_ was—"

"Get out."

Okay, so maybe enduring a storm _was_ better than _this._

"But there really was—"

"Get. Out."

Sullenly, Suzaku picked up his things and left quietly without another argument.

Lydic sighed and pulled out his bottle of whiskey and prepared himself for the thunder and lightning he heard approaching.

Several days later, it was once again another sleepless night for Lydic Verell.

What was worse was that he was out of scotch.

And whiskey.

And every other form of alcoholic beverage capable of making him forget just how misera—

And then his phone rang.

* * *

Comments:

There's something to be said about persistence too.

You vote it, I'll write it. No voting means I can stop writing this. So. Who's next?

Please R&R.

- Minute Maid

Beverage of Queens.


	5. So You Throw Knives, Huh?

Pre-Comment: Some throw fits. Others throw lamps. _She _throws _knives_.

* * *

Chapter Five: So You Throw Knives, Huh?

Name: Shinozaki Sayoko

Objective: To obtain part-time employment at Pizza Hut in order to learn all their se—to make the best pizza in the world.

Skill sets: Sewing, baking, cooking, cleaning, mending, repairing, throwing knives and various other sharp objects, keeping secrets.

Past Employment: Registered Nurse.

ooo

There were some things in the world you just don't question.

Why does apple pie taste _so_ good?

Why do all the best oranges always seem to come from California?

Will the coyote ever catch that road runner?

Lots of these, and many more, were often accompanied by titles such as 'mysteries of the universe,' 'great wonder of the world,' or other equivalent and appropriate names. Some had warning signs on them, with clear conclusions, telling you it's best not to poke your nose where it ought not to belong. Others were the _do not push_ sign on a big red button.

Skill: _Throwing knives._

Lydic Verell wanted to push that button.

Clasping his hands together in front of him, he gave her a warm, friendly smile. "Sayoko, is it?"

She gave a simple nod.

"You seem to be very adept at what you do."

Like throwing knives.

"Thank you."

"It's a _very_ impressive resume."

Is it missing a circus aspect?

"Thank you."

"I'm almost _positive_ that Pizza Hut could use someone of your specific talents."

How good is your aim?

"It would be a pleasure."

To plant one right between the eyes?

Oh, there was just _so_ much temptation. Normally it wouldn't bother him and he would just ask straight out, but then he had to start wondering: Why put something like _that_ on an otherwise perfectly good resume? (Not only that, but he was afraid of the repercussions of such an action.)

Was it a button worth pushing?

Or at least poking with a stick?

Or maybe tapping it a little with that stick?

And, if the button just so happened to be, well, _accidentally_ pushed, would he end up with something sharp and pointy sticking out of him with a severe need for a hospital and heart surgeon if God gave him that much time?

"I'm curious about something you'll have to enlighten me upon."

"Of course," she responded in that polite, sweet sort of way.

"How good at it are you?"

Sayoko blinked.

" 'It'?"

Lydic nodded towards the piece of paper lying in front of him on his desk. "You know. On your resume."

Enlightenment.

"Oh. Well I'm very good at it. I can bake almost anything. My previous employer won't admit it, but he learned how to bake from me. It was for his younger sister's birthday. It was very sweet of him, but—and you mustn't ever mention it to him—I made a replica of it in time for the party so as not to hurt his feelings. Or poison everyone."

Lydic cleared his throat.

"Fascinating."

No, tell me about the knives.

The _knives._

"And… how about this… _other_ skill of yours?"

Sayoko hummed thoughtfully. "I'm still not very good at French cuisine, but I have fully mastered Japanese, Britannian, Chinese, and German foods. Some of their confectionaries are hard to prepare, however."

Lydic cleared his throat. "Yes, yes, that's all well and good. But…"

_Skill: Throwing knives._

Do or die.

(But hopefully not the latter as a result of the former.)

"…this, uh, knife skill of yours."

Tilting her head, Sayoko betrayed no other significant show of emotion other than a slight smile. "Oh, you're interested in that little talent? It's nothing special, really."

Lydic sputtered slightly.

Nothing special?

Nothing _special?_

Being able to hum in-tune was nothing special.

Being able to walk and chew gum at the same time was nothing special.

Being able to consume every flavour of whiskey, vodka, and scotch known to man within a twenty-four hour time period was nothing special.

(Well, in his opinion at least.)

Being able to _throw knives_ was not just _nothing special._

"You've got to be kidding me!" Lydic rose from his seat. "You _throw knives!_ It's not every day you find someone who can do that! It's not every day you find someone who puts this sort of skill on a resume!" he exclaimed, waving his hands around excitedly.

Sayoko hummed thoughtfully. "Really?"

"Yes really. So tell me, did you work for the army?

She blinked in surprise. "The army?"

"Are you part of a secret order of assassin's hell-bent on upholding the laws of the underworld? Are you affiliated with a syndi—"

"Mister Verell," Sayoko started, shaking her head politely, "I think you—"

"—mission to kill anyone who gets in the way of your organization? Or how about—"

"Mister Verell, _please_, it's—"

"—cover for important people with a double life? Or maybe you're a special part of the CIA sent in to keep tabs on dirty dealings? Then what about a circus escapee who—"

"Would you like me to show you?"

Lydic paused mid-sentence.

Process.

Think.

And then—

_"Really?"_ he gasped, eyes lighting up like Vegas.

She smiled and nodded. "I'd be happy to."

* * *

Paperwork.

More and more paperwork.

She had always wondered why someone in middle-management at _Pizza Hut_ would need an assistant or secretary of any kind. Even if he was a sort of regional manager, it was still _very, very_ curious. Head Office didn't tell her specifically why either.

Which was even _more_ curious.

Well.

Now that she was actually here… mystery solved.

_ "He is SO lazy!"_ she cried in frustration.

A hand landed on her shoulder and she jumped in alarm, spinning towards it as the hand withdrew. Nakuru sighed in relief, "Oh, it's just you, Miss Sayoko. So, how did the interview with Mr Verell go?"

The woman gave her an apologetic look. "It doesn't look like I'll be a good fit here after all."

Nakuru's face fell. She had spent over half an hour discussing the best way to make chiffon cake with the woman prior to the interview and was potentially looking forward to working with her.

"Oh. That's a shame."

The woman bowed her head slightly. "Truly. I'll have to get going now—and, do be careful when removing them, they're _very_ sharp."

Nakuru blinked in justified confusion. "Uh… okay."

"Well then, have a good day," she said sweetly, smiling before giving a polite bow and heading out.

Sighing, Nakuru shrugged and returned to her paperwork before remembering there was a stack of such paperwork that needed Lydic's signature.

Man, if she could just manage to loop his 'Y' right she wouldn't need it ever again.

Getting up to leave her desk, she walked down the short corridor to his office and knocked. Upon receiving a somewhat haggard 'Come in' she turned the knob stepping through.

"Lydic, I need you to—Holy Heaven!"

A total of fifteen small _(throwing!)_ knives kept Lydic pinned to the ceiling by his clothing. They didn't look like they were going to budge any time soon—or very easily.

"Lydic, what—"

_ "Don't ask."_

"But—"

_ "Don't ask."_

"Sorry, but it's just that—"

"Damn it all, Lydia! I told you not to ask!"

Brown eyes narrowed in a glare. Striding over to his desk, she placed the small stack of forms needing his signature on the desk with a slam. Turning on her heel she headed straight back for the door.

Lydic's eyes widened. "Wait! Stop you can't just—! I'm sorry! Please—"

Whirling in fury, Nakuru fixed him with a glare. "I'll need your signature on those by the end of today. And, for the last time: My name is _NAKURU!_"

SLAM.

Lydic sighed.

"Fishsticks."

* * *

Comments:

Ah… Sayoko was the hardest to write. Simply because… well… as an employee, I think she'd be _fabulous_. Good at her job. Considerate. Cheerful. Quiet. Pretty. Ninja. Heck. I want her serving me tea every morning. And sticking my enemies like pigs.

But you never heard me say that.

So, with much ado:

Wanted: A part-time employee for one of the world's largest pizza chains.

You vote it, I'll write it.

Please R&R.

- Minute Maid

Beverage of Queens.

P.S. How many of you "Liar Liar" fans thought it would be someone else?


	6. So You're a Psychopathic Stalker, Huh?

Pre-Comment: No. I'm not dead yet. And stop looking so upset about that. I've been busy-thanksforasking.

* * *

Chapter Six: So You're a Psychopathic Stalker, Huh?

Name: Mao

Objective: To be able to sacrifice a lot of pizza to CC.

Skill sets: Mind reading. Being CC's #1 fan. Owning every CC plush, action figure, poster, bedding item, pillow, pillowcase, etc, and the world largest unofficial photo album. Making pizza. Stalking.

Past Employment: President of the CC Fanclub. Leader of CCC.

ooo

As soon as he saw him, Lydic instantly regretted handing screening duties over to Lydia to reduce the number of crazies that kept coming. It was as if they were all magically attracted here by some unknown force or something. He had given her strict instructions to defer them all to Dominoes, across the street, in hopes that they would internally destroy the competition and force them to relocate so maybe a nice Chinese restaurant could move in. And then Head Office would have no choice but to promote him so he could effectively attach the Pizza Hut logo to his ball and chain permanently.

What a _terrifying_ thought.

"I can get you more than just a promotion."

Lydic blinked.

"Come again, son?"

"You want a promotion. I can get you one. Just hire me."

_Wow._

It was either astounding confidence, astounding arrogance, astounding stupidity, or too many practice interviews and career counselling sessions gone horribly wrong.

He wasn't sure if he should be irritated or shocked with awe.

So he settled on a little of both.

But determinedly more of the former.

"Right. But my greatest hope and most terrifying nightmare isn't any of your concern. You got past my secretary, so there's _got to_ be something special about you," he remarked, snapping the resume in his hand crisply to scan for any, ahem, _areas of concern_ as mandated by the Pizza Hut Quality Guidelines Manual version 3.2.

And, no, he _didn't_ want to know why they sent it only to him.

It didn't take much longer than looking past the name to find the first problem.

An eyebrow rose.

"Your objective is to 'sacrifice a lot of pizza to CC'?"

"Yes!" he replied happily, clapping his hands together in an expression Lydic could only describe as pure glee, "The kind with extra cheese and Tabasco of course."

"Right. Just who or _what_ is a CC?"

And why did that name sound so familiar?

Mao gasped, truly shocked. "Only the best person in the entire world!"

Right.

Just _how_ did this guy get past Lydia again? Exactly?

"She was smitten by my charm. And her name is Nakuru."

Lydic deadpanned.

There was something _dementedly_ wrong about this guy.

He looked back down at the resume.

And then back up at Mao.

Yes.

Something _very_ wrong.

And the fact that his resume stated him as the leader of a KKK equivalent for Pizza Hut was only the tip of the iceberg.

And then Lydic got to thinking—

_ Oh, good Lord._

Was it possible?

_Was_ it a Pizza Hut cult?

And somehow, through all of this, Lydic realized that maybe it was time to go job-hunting again. Or maybe just go back home. Nakuru would have to come with him of course.

She was too hot and useful and somehow related to him (which made her off-limits) to be left here.

"It actually stands for CC Club. I'm currently the only member, but I'm open to applications!"

"Come again?"

"You were thinking about CCC!" he explained cheerfully, eyes all alight and tinged with red like he hadn't slept in days. Or was high on drugs.

Or both.

"It's actually a side-effect from my power. I can read minds."

Yeah. Probably both.

"Come again?"

"CC! _She_ gave me this power. But then it got out of control and I couldn't turn it off and then she left me all alone!" he mourned sorrowfully. "But I really can read minds though! For instance, do you know your secretary has memorized over forty-one ways to kill someone and twelve of them make it look like an accident?"

Slowly, Lydic reached for his direct line to Nakuru and buzzed her.

"Nakuru, call the cops. And those people that put other people into strait-jackets."

The man in front of him quickly rose to his feet, causing the chair to fall and clatter on the ground, slamming both hands on the desk.

"I am _not_ crazy!"

"And be quick about it, won't you?"

_ "Uh… right away, Sir."_

It wasn't until a SWAT team arrived to detain the not-anymore potential new hire, as he kicked and screamed and struggled, yelling obscenities, death threats, and terrorist attempts, that Nakuru thought she might've found number forty-two was a pretty good addition to stop at.

And later that week, when she was cleaning out Lydic's desk of errant paperwork that needed to be done, she came across a resume and, out of curiosity, quickly looked it over until she came to—

"Stalking? What kind of skill is _that?"_

—before promptly shredding it.

Roughly two weeks later, Lydic got a letter in the mail that he promptly threw down the garbage disposal.

_I know which room you sleep in and where you keep your knives._

_

* * *

_Comment:

Alright, so I've decided to finally retire this one after giving the impressive lag between now and, well, the last update some careful consideration. The economic crisis and lack of unskilled/skilled labour positions ceases to be a source of amusement for me. I may pick up randoms and do those-which is pretty much what I've been doing for a while now, anyway. If there are any that you're just _dying_ to see, you'll have to give me more motivation and suggestions/prompting than: PLOX TO DO [INSERT NAME HERE].

And I'm sure there's a rule on the Internet somewhere that allows me to spell it plox.

Plox R&R.

- Minute Maid

Beverage of Queens.

Now tapioca flavoured.

Wait. What?


	7. So You Have a Brother Complex, Huh?

Pre-Comment: I AM SUPER SORRY THAT I HAVE NOT UPDATED THIS IN SO LONG! But I want you all to know that I love you and really appreciate all the warm fuzzies you give me! I read them at night when the anti-depressants stop working and hold them close to my heart.*

* * *

Chapter Seven: So You Have a Brother Complex, Huh?

Name: Schneizel el Britannia

Objective: Your every wish and desire.

Skill Sets: Chess, strategy, knowing every single way to annoy Lelouch, fencing, penmanship, politics, marksmanship, poetry, equestrianism, evil masterminding, and baking (preferably with Lelouch, although he always has a stick with him to prevent me from getting closer).

Past Employment: Prime Minister of Britannia, Zero's Slave.

ooo

Monday.

"…cried so much when he wet the bed!"

Approximately twelve minutes past five.

"By six, of course, he grew out of it, but everyone always teased him about being a bed-wetter until he was twelve when—"

Wait—make that thirteen.

"And there was another time, although he'll never admit it, that he was scared of the dark after Clovis—"

He should've been home ten minutes ago.

(The sad fact that he lived three minutes away from Pizza Hut unimportant.)

"—horror of all kinds. Wolves, witches, ghosts, very large spiders, you name—"

This was beginning to get ridiculous.

"—in fact once had a very dear pet tarantula that I named after—"

He glanced at his secretary, Ly—(glare)—er—Nakuru, hoping for her stunningly amazing quick wits to somehow come up with some fantastical appointment he had fantastically forgotten to get out of this fantastically boring biography of this man's dead younger brother.

Who just happened to be the late Emperor.

Who was slain.

Literally.

Sword an—well, we've gone over this in detail before, haven't we?

Nakuru gave him a sheepish look and shrugged. Looking down at her desk, she scribbled something on a Post-It and held it up for him to read written in bold, black marker.

_You're on your own._

Ah… fishsticks.

"...this one time we did it with pie and after that he was terrified witless of the apple vari—"

"Mr Britannia," Lydic cut off, clearing his throat loudly.

Nakuru blinked, all ears—even though her eyes were smartly glued to the blank screensaver of a Pizza Hut logo that had been bouncing around on her computer screen for the past thirteen minutes.

Since moving her personal workspace right into his to keep him on task for review week, Lydic had quickly realized that all she ever really, truly did here was homework and Internet shopping.

And if he were a dumber man, and a more-caring of work-time supervisor, he would be reprimanding her for it.

"Incase you've forgotten, we're here to discuss a job placement."

The man simply smiled. "Of course, and I'm sure you'll find everything's in working condition on my application. Feel free to let me know when I can start. Now, where was I… Oh yes, the _pie incident._ Well, ever since that day when—"

Lydic sighed, shoulders slumping with it. With a quick snap of the paper, drowning out the someone else's life story background music, Lydic read over the resume just as the man was going over the various levels of trauma he had put his questionably beloved little brother through using baked goods.

Whoever his little brother was, he was surely a saint for not having killed the man already.

(Or, trying and failing as the case were.)

Love was truly a terrifying thing.

Now, where was he—oh right, the resume.

Schneizel el Britannia.

Huh.

Wasn't that the name of someone famous? Or at least important? Or supposed to be dead?

Chess, strategy, knowing every single way to annoy Lelouch, fencing, pen—

Wait.

Backtrack.

_Knowing every single way to annoy Lelouch._

He cleared his throat once more.

"Mr Britannia, I'd like to ask you about this, uh, questionable skill of yours… 'knowing every single way to annoy Lelouch.' How is that… useful?"

Operative word being useful.

It was here that the man sitting in front of him looked genuinely shocked before clasping his hands together in his lap looking quite concerned with himself. "How is it _not?_ He's back from the dead through some fantastically unbelievable way and wandering around, you know. What if he comes to harass this establishment? I can then shoo him away," he concluded cheerfully, with hand motions and everything.

There was a bit of silence.

And really, what else could possibly fill this awkward gap without making it less awkward than the standard Awkward Silence™.

Lydic glanced at the nearly-full shredder next to his desk. "I can't be fussy, I'll take it. Let's move on then. Specifically to one of your… ah, previous employments. Specifically the one where you mention being _Zero's Slave._ Just _how _is that relevant on a resume?"

And just _what_ _kind_ of slave?

He wasn't even sure he wanted to know.

"I make a _very good _slave you know."

Right.

Let's just _not even…_

And he didn't even want to look at the _pink heart_ next to baking, God forbid he _mention_ it.

Unfortunately, Pizza Hut Quality Guidelines Manual version 3.3 required otherwise of him.

"Please elaborate," Lydic said through grit teeth, wincing.

Schneizel smiled. "Well, like this morning, her Empress was feeling lonely and wanted to hear all about the late emperor. So I spent nearly all morning just telling her everything there was to know about our cute, adorable brother. Of course he'd slit your throat sooner rather than later for saying that if he could."

Lydic blinked. "And _can he?"_

Was it bad to hope?

The man laughed—so hard that his entire frame shook. "Heavens, no! Lelouch couldn't do more damage than a disgruntled kitten. It's really cute actually. Part of the reason I always picked on him when he was a child. But then he learned that _buttons_ could be pushed rather easily to the effect that he would like," Schneizel added with a sigh.

"I see. How… unfortunate for him."

Grin.

_"Most_ unfortunate."

"I'm sure it was. Moving right along then. There's one other issue I might have with this resume of yours."

"Please do indulge me."

"And I quote 'evil masterminding.' Please explain."

"Well, I clearly have superior skill in it than my little brother. And what if Dominoes across the street decided to pull something funny?"

Huh.

Funny.

Lydic was having a moment of severe déjà vu.

"Funny?"

"Yes. Funny. Like poison your stock! I can reroute it and have it decimate them three times over!"

_Decimate?_

Should he be concerned about this man's use of vocabulary?

"Alright. I'll take that."

Take _that_ Pizza Hut Quality Guidelines Manual version 3.3!

"Excellent."

"Just one last question for you and I believe we can wrap things up here."

Schneizel's eyebrows rose in curiosity. "Oh? And what momentous question would that be?"

"Do you, uh… believe in magic?"

Blink.

Blink.

And then the man bridged his hands together and smiled patiently. "Mr Verell, what century do we live in? There's no such thing as _magic.__"_ he asked, chuckling.

Oh what.

Did his ears deceive him?

An otherwise _normal_ response from someone who was clearly overqualified for menial, unskilled labour that Pizza Hut required from an otherwise… _eccentric_ person?

Well, there was only one response to _that._

"You're hir—"

_"Geass,_ on the other hand, is a force to be reckoned with that gives you supernatural powers."

Silence.

"Right, I think I've heard enough. Thank you for your time," Lydic said with a smile, rising from his seat. He held his hand out for Schneizel to take.

Schneizel beamed and rose to shake Lydic's hand. "Wonderful! When shall I start?"

"About that; let _us_ call _you._ And may I remind you that stalking is crime and considered a felony in thirteen different states."

Confusion swept over Schneizel's face. "I don't under—"

"There's the door, good-bye!"

Looking disappointed, Schneizel left the office without another word.

Slowly, Lydic leaned back in his chair as it squeaked. "Ly—uh—Nakuru, while you're on Amazon there, order me some drugs to handle general schizophrenia. I think I can bill the company if I pitch it as a 'Pizza Hut is Good for Mental Health' thing."

"Do you want the regular or extra strength?"

* * *

Comment:

Just remember: It's okay to lie as long as you don't get caught.

Also remember: I will shirk any and all responsibility for any harmful repercussions the above mentioned advice may incur.

If you'd like more, let me know with some suggestions, and ideas! I'm no longer polling because I'm lazy and terrible at politics, so let me know in a review!

Please R&R.

- Minute Maid

Beverage of Queens.

*Apology not actually sincere. Warm fuzzies and love may or may not actually exist. Minute Maid does not actually sleep with reviews. Or reviewers. All further inquiries on the veracity, hidden-subtext, or deeper meaning of the above statement will be shredded without notice.


	8. So You—Erm, Just How Old Are You Again?

Pre-Comment: This Chapter was brought to you by Potential, because not everybody grows up to be an astronaut.

* * *

Chapter Eight: So You—Erm, Just How Old Are You Again?

Name: Anya Alstreim

Objective: —

Skill Sets: Knightmare, FaceBook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Google+, Tumblr, Pinterest, Flickr, LiveJournal, YouTube, and Myspace.

Past Employment: Pilot, Knight of Six, Host.

References: *illegible scribbles*

ooo

Nakuru stretched herself out on her chair after finally finishing the morning report that just needed signatures. Switching back to eBay she browsed for more full-sized posters of a certain dark-haired young man, who had a way with children's card games on motorcycles, with a sexy voice that made her swoon.

Finally finding one, she sighed in awe of it, imagining how well it would look pinned up in her room next to the other one when she noticed someone standing by her desk. Quickly flipping back to another screen she regarded the woman—er—girl, really—in front.

With bubble-gum pink hair.

The girl didn't smile and just stared at her blankly. Feeling nervous for some reason, Nakuru smiled pleasantly to her. She looked so young. "Is there something I can help you with, Little Miss? Are you, uh, lost?" Nakuru glanced around the empty store and then back to the girl. "Did you perhaps lose your parents somewhere?"

Without directly answering her, the girl slid a resume on the table. "Interview."

The secretary's eyes widened in disbelief. And then she checked the schedule for the day.

"Anya?"

Nod.

Nakuru buzzed Lydic and informed him.

"Mr Verell's office is just down that way."

The girl nodded and took the resume back before quietly walking down to the office.

It was only after she heard the door shut that Nakuru sighed.

"How adorable~"

ooo

My hand will surely fall off, Lydic thought as he downright scribbled on the signature line for the last document to pass his desk for the moment. For the past week he had been experimenting with how sloppy a signature Head Office would let him get away with. So far they only rejected the checkmark and loop-de-loops, but okayed the loop-de-loops that started with something that barely resembled an L.

He was seriously considering hiring a child to help.

The knock on the door made him sigh as he said "Come in!" loudly.

Ask and you shall receive.

With cotton-candy pink hair too.

"You must be Anya. Please, have a seat," he said, motioning to the chair in front of his desk.

The little girl looked at him blankly before gazing back down at her pink phone with a bunny cell strap on it. Without giving him another glance, she sat down on the chair and pushed the resume across the desk to him.

Lydic looked it over, only slightly miffed that this kid not only looked like she would get him in trouble for child labour laws, but was straight up _ignoring_ him.

To put it bluntly, her resume was garbage. It was the equivalent of every other socially-adept pre-teen out there who spent way too much time on the computer and not enough time outside.

He glanced up at her again, and this time she was looking right at him. A slight shiver went down his spine from the directness of her stare. Several Japanese horror films came to mind, and he idly wondered if they would be more terrifying if they had pink hair instead of the traditional black.

But she was cute, as far as kids went—no denying that.

Looking back down at the resume, his brows went up.

"You were the Knight of Six, huh? Tell me more about that."

Anya was silent and still. Lydic wondered if maybe she didn't hear the question or something. When he was about to prod her to talk, she spoke up.

"Mordred. Intercept and eliminate enemy pilots. Kill on sight."

It could've been the cold draft coming in through the window, but Lydic shivered slightly. "Ah… right. So, what was your favourite part of being a pilot?"

She blinked at him blankly for a few times before looking back down at her phone. After a few minutes of silence she turned the phone around to show him a picture of what looked like a half-destroyed library in the background. Anya was wearing a pink heart-shaped hat, taking a self-shot with a large Knightmare in the background. She held up a peace sign and wasn't smiling.

"She told me it was wrong."

Lydic deadpanned. "Don't tell me _you_ did that?"

Anya just nodded. "I took a photo to remember that it was wrong."

He fixed her with a stern look. "Is there… a problem with your memory?"

It wasn't what he really wanted to say, but it was politely close.

Anya looked down at her phone again, as if in thought. And then she looked back up at him. "I don't have any."

Well now he just felt _bad._

And she really was quite adorable so he didn't want to upset her. He didn't think his heart was equipped to handle crying girls. Although, taking another look at her, he could hardly imagine it if she smiled, let alone _cried._

"I… uh… that might be a problem. For working here."

Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. And then she looked down at her phone.

"Oh."

Feeling as if a thousand arrows had just pierced his heart, Lydic let out a long sigh.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think—"

Just then there came a knock on his door. Lydic frowned. Nakuru knew better than to interrupt the interview process. _Especially_ the interview process. But she was waving frantically, looking like a bomb had just gone off, holding a memo up to the glass of the window.

With a sigh, he waved her in. She slid the piece of paper on to his desk in front of him, face down. "It's urgent, from the _higher ups,"_ she whispered into his ear before slipping out.

Lydic glanced between the little girl in front of him to the note in front of him. Picking it up gingerly, as if it were coated in acid, he took a peek.

Slamming it back down he grinned widely at Anya.

"Everything is in order! When can you start?" he asked excitedly, clasping his hands together, smiling wider than he ever had in his entire life.

Anya looked up at him like he were no better than the face of a rock and then back down at her pink phone. After a few minutes of silent browsing on her end, when Lydic's smile started to hurt him in more places than his face (like his heart), she looked back up at him.

"Mmm."

His eye unintentionally twitched.

"You serve pizza here?"

"Yes! Yes we serve pizza here."

"Oh."

There was another long silence.

And then she got up from her seat to give a slight bow.

"I don't want it."

And then she turned around to leave.

Lydic was in shock.

Minutes later, Nakuru knocked on his door and he numbly turned to look at her as she coughed to gain his attention. "Head Office is on the line for you, Sir," she said as solemnly as possible.

Opening the last drawer on his desk for his—

Gone.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

* * *

Comments:

Annnnyyaaaaaaaa nooooooooo T.T

- Minute Maid

Beverage of Queens.

P.S. CARD GAMES ON MOTORCYCLES.


End file.
